


Put My Heart Through The Fire

by smoakmonster



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arrow (TV 2012) Season 7, Arrow (TV 2012) Season 8, Father-Daughter Relationship, Flash Forward, Gen, Season/Series 07 Speculation, Season/Series 08 Speculation, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 20:30:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18820153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoakmonster/pseuds/smoakmonster
Summary: an oliver & mia future reunion scene.title: 'fighter' by danny gokey





	Put My Heart Through The Fire

**Author's Note:**

> i wrestled with this one for like a month, but i hope you all enjoy the turnout as we head into the end of season 7.

“Mia, wait.”

The sound of her name spilling from a Galaxy One mouthpiece sends a chill through her veins. Her DNA was supposed to be safe. That was the whole point in having her do this job.

Across the abandoned subway tunnel, the soldier she’s been chasing--or has he been chasing her?--shows the first sign of intelligent life for a Galaxy One drone by suddenly lifting his hands in surrender.

Mia redirects her aim for his newly exposed jugular. “Hey! Don’t try anything!”

Far from threatened, the man under the reflective mask merely tilts his head, slipping a hand beneath his helmet. One false move, and she could end him right here. She _should_ end him. Yet her gut tells her not to let the arrow fly. What appears to be an amateur mistake, Mia suspects is really an intentional play. He’s leaving himself vulnerable to her attack on purpose. But why?

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” comes the gruff voice, masked by a robotic modulator.

Mia frowns, even as her rebellious heart pounds with expectation for...what? Trying to gain her trust won’t work. If he knows her name, he knows her heritage, and that makes them enemies.

On edge, Mia watches him slowly, meticulously unclasp and slip off the helmet. A twinkle of gray hair catches her eye, aging her competitor far beyond what she presumed. As he steps further out of the shadows, Mia’s unease builds, until finally he lifts his head. And her heart hits the ground.

Impossible.

Of all the ways she imagined finally meeting her dad, this was not one of them.

It’s been weeks since she watched that vigilante documentary, decades since it was filmed...but there is no mistaking him. His face has grown rough, the planes of his skin wearing deeper, harder lines, his jaw covered with thick, silver hair that almost shines beneath the light. But his eyes...oh, his eyes are exactly the same, bearing that same wistful valor she recognizes from all the old photographs. His eyes are piercing, like he can see all of her darkest secrets, and somehow soft, like he’s already decided she’s someone worth fighting for.

Mia swallows.

What do you say to the father you’ve never met? _Hi? Where have you been all my life? Are you working for the enemy now? Is everything I’ve ever heard about you a lie? Why did you leave us—_

“Mia.”

Without the modulator, his voice is as rich as she remembers from the video, though his tone is completely foreign to her, solemnly gentle, infused with hope. He speaks her name in a way she’s never heard it said before, as though he is both asking her a question and answering it at the same time.

The chaos churning inside her goes still as she lowers her bow.

This is the first time she’s heard his real voice, not just a recording. Somehow, the warm sound feels familiar. Is this the voice that’s been haunting her dreams for years?

Her precious few memories of him blurred into obscurity long ago, until all she knows come from the second-hand ghost stories of a mother pretending not to grieve. According to Mom, he used to count her fingers and toes in Russian and Chinese and sing her lullabies in Spanish. She doesn’t remember any of the words, but the gentle timbre has stuck with her, like an imaginary friend, a shadow lingering just out of her grasp.

Long before finding an illegal documentary, this is the only part of her past that deep down Mia has secretly known: that her father’s voice sounds like home. Maybe that’s why she’s never really felt at home anywhere.

“Dad?”

Her bow hits the concrete with a clang, and she surges to close the distance between them. Arms as wide as the earth and as warm as the sun engulf her, without resistance, without hesitation, and she drowns in his ocean. He feels even better than she imagined, warm and strong and soothing.

“I missed you so much,” she whispers against his chest. The breathy words sound silly in her own ears. How can she ache for something she’s never had?

“You were with me the whole time,” he says into her hair, and she can hear the smile in his voice.

Mom always said that Dad had a way of calming the storm by being a storm. Mia never understood what that meant. Clinging to him now, feeling the heat and power radiating off him, hearing his strong heartbeat beneath her ear, she thinks she finally does.

Mia burrows deeper, curling her fingers into his shirt. When his arms tighten and his hand cups the back of her head, prolonging the hug, like this is an old routine of theirs, she hums a secret, satisfied smile.

Mia has been training since she could walk, and never once has she felt unable to defend herself. But just now, snuggly wrapped up in the arms of someone bigger and stronger, for the first time maybe in her whole life…she feels _safe_. Protected. Like nothing in the world can touch her.

“My beautiful girl.” His voice has aged since the documentary, too, she realizes. Deeper, yet still comforting. She can feel his relief vibrating through her. “My little star. Let me look at you.”

He pulls back, his hands first gently stroking her cheeks, then settling on her shoulders, keeping them connected, grounding her. “You look so much like your mom.”

“That’s funny, because she says I’m so much like you. Not that I would know.” She flinches. She hadn’t meant to say that. Well, maybe. But not yet. Not so abruptly.

He glances around the dark tunnel, as though suddenly noticing where they are. The grooves in his forehead deepen. “What are you doing in The Glades, Mia?”

Mia shrugs. “Oh, you know, just fighting corrupt, anti-vigilante overlords. The usual.”

“Does your mom know what you’ve been up to?” His tone drops, probing, though not quite demanding, like he’s referring to more than just her recent bent in crime-fighting.

“Are you kidding? Mom sent me.” A zing of awareness shoots through her. Has Mom know where her father has been this entire time?

His hands drop, leaving behind icy patches on her skin. He’s no longer looking at her, his eyes fixed on some spot on the wall, though she doubts he even sees it. “Your mom is in Star City?” he asks in a hoarse voice.

“Yeah. You didn’t know? Galaxy One is targeting vigilantes, and the only way we can stop them is to take down Archer with some sort of virus...something.”

“We?”

“Yeah, Mom and me and...”

“Your brother?”

Mia’s eyes widen. “How did you…?”

He rocks his head, carefully avoiding her gaze. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you. On both of you.” When he looks at her again, his eyes are kinder. “How is William?”

Mia manages a soft smile. “Super smart. And super annoying.”

A strange rush of victory fills her watching his lips twitch.

“Anyway, Mom gave me these coordinates, and they led me here. I guess she’s been on a reunion kick lately.” She’s rambling, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

He shakes his head, serious once more, and lets out a rumbling groan. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Mia crosses her arms, the sting of rejection itching beneath her skin. Was it too much to hope that her father might actually want her in his life? “Well, sorry to disappoint you. Maybe if you’d told me to stay away in a documentary, I might’ve actually gotten the message.”

A lot flashes behind that hard look, some of it frightening, until his face morphs into a blank, unreadable mask that leaves her feeling restless and about ten years old.

“We need to keep moving,” he announces with a no-nonsense air of authority that sparks a flare of rebellious ire inside her. How dare he just start ordering her around after he’s been absent for her entire life.

He picks up her bow, making his way deeper into the tunnel without stopping to look back

“Hey, that’s mine!”

He spins, shooting her a wry grin that she really wants to hate. “Then I guess you’re gonna have to take it from me.”

She has no choice but to follow him. This is what Mom wanted, right? For her to find her dad. Or maybe she just wanted her to retrieve the mythical Green Arrow.

If Mia is truly honest with herself, a part of her--a bigger part than she’d like to admit--has been aching to find her dad for as long as she can remember. And now that he’s actually here, standing just a few feet away from her...he doesn’t exactly resemble the hero everyone claims he is. Not that it matters. She stopped begging for bedtime hero stories a long time ago.

As they move further down muggy and depressing passageways, Mia hardly knows what to say to him, but she hears herself asking, “Is this where you’ve been living all this time? Hiding down in these old tunnels?”  

The soft sound of shuffling leather is her only answer. He certainly moves like a soldier, quiet, intent, carrying a secret purpose on his shoulders. But he also trudges like someone who’s been bearing a heavy burden for too long.

The longer she studies his profile in the dim lighting, the more she sees the toll the years of separation have taken on him, too. All these years, she’s been so angry--at him and Mom. She could never understand why saving a dysfunctional city was so important to them that it meant raising her away from everything and everyone, even him. She never asked for her parents to be a heroes. She just needed them to be...around. And he couldn’t even give her that.

Seeing him now, his stance self-assured, his aging body worn down, Mia realizes...he’s paid a steep price for heroism. An entire city betrayed him. She won’t count herself among them.

“Is it true?” she suddenly asks.

He glances at her. “Is what true?”

“That documentary...what you said, about trying to move forward. Being better. Was any of it true?”

He stills, growing quiet for a while, seeming to puzzle out how best to answer her. Finally, he says, “It’s all true.”

“Just not for me.”

He sighs, the defeated sound echoing through the deserted cavern. “Mia, I’m sorry.”

Mia freezes. Unwilling to let him see the effect he’s already having on her, she crosses her arms in effort to hold back the tears. “You’re sorry? Well, gee, thanks, Dad,” she snaps, flinging that unused name at him like an arrow, and though he reacts with barely a frown, she knows she’s hit her mark.

“I’m glad I’ve spent my entire life hiding from the people who’d want to hurt me just for being your kid, all so you can stand there and tell me you’re sorry? Sorry for what, exactly? For leaving? For being a vigilante in the first place?”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t offer a single word in his defense, and really what did she expect? For him to yell at her right back? Deep down, she doesn’t want to fight him. All she wants is...to understand him. To not be alone anymore.

Long, silent minutes pass, until the inferno drains right out her. Groggily, she says, “You know, Mom said you were there the day I was born and...for a while. What was so bad that you couldn’t stay?”

“I know you may not want to believe this, but everything I have done is to protect you.”

He sounds just like Mom, vaguely reassuring and intentionally cryptic. Typical.

“Well, I don’t need your protection.” _I just needed you._  “I can take care of myself. And in case you haven't noticed, I’m kinda turning into a vigilante, too. Is that what you want to hear—”

“No!” For the first time, he looks slightly rattled. “Mia, I never wanted you to be a part of any of this.”

“Part of what? Your life?”

“No, that’s not… You know, it’s funny,” he huffs, the grimace he wears strained with bitterness. “I made it my mission to right my father’s wrongs, to be a better parent for you and...better than what my parents were for my sister and me. But sometimes you can’t change who you are, who you come from, no matter how hard you try. I have failed you, Mia. I see that now.”

It’s not really any apology, but it’s more than she had when she snuck down here. A weight in her chest loosens.

He opens his mouth to say something, and then abruptly shuts it. Finally, he settles on, “Mia, you have to know that I never wanted to leave you. I didn’t have a choice.”

“What do you mean?”

He lips tighten into a thin line, his face filling with a distant memory. “After the Archer program your mom created took off, it wasn’t long before...the wrong people figured out where I was at any given point in time. By the time we figured out what had happened, the SCPD became compromised, I lost my deputy position, and I...made a lot of mistakes during that time. The Green Arrow couldn’t do his job anymore. _I_ couldn’t exist anymore. And neither could any of my family.”

He sighs, a rumbling, heavy sigh, one he’s probably kept inside for twenty years. “I didn’t plan to stay away forever, not in the beginning, but...it became clear that anyone connected with the Green Arrow would also be compromised.”

“Then why did you have to come back _here_? Why couldn’t you just stay away, stay with...us?” She’s sounding desperate in her own ears, but she can’t stem the floodgate of questions that have been gnawing at her since the night Mommy first told her about the adventures of Team Arrow.

He clears his throat, a new flicker of guilt flashing behind his eyes, a new secret making its way to the surface. “I made a promise to someone, before you were born. And he came to collect.”

Is that what he meant to say? She doesn’t think so. There’s still so much that he isn’t telling her, key fragments missing from his story that would make this crazy mosaic make sense.

“Mia, I want to tell you everything. But right now, we need to move.”

She doesn’t like it, but he’s right.

They walk for what feels like hours, until they come to a fork in the tunnels. He halts, nodding to his right. “Take the easternmost tunnel for about half a mile. It’ll divert you right above the power grid.”

He hands her back her bow, taking a step back into the shadows.

“Aren’t you coming?” Dread, slow and steady at first, begins to slowly pulse faster and faster against her ribcage.

“Mia, I can’t.”

“What? You of all people have to help us stop this.”

“Mia, if I get within fifty yards of that wall, they will have an entire army on us in ten seconds. I can’t risk that.”

Mia bites her lip, the documentary where she first saw him playing over in her mind, fueling the spark of hope that’s been lit inside her since the moment he first said her name. “Dad, there’s an entire city out there that thinks you’re to blame for all of their problems.” _I used to think that._ “And you’re just going to let those people keep believing the worst about you? What happened to the great Green Arrow Mom always told me about? She told me you never gave up on your team, how you always found another way.”

“There is no other way this time. It’s better if I sit this one out.”

“Better for who, Dad?”

“As long as you and William are safe, it doesn’t matter.”

Mia shakes her head. “It does matter. This is our fight. Our whole family. Families save each other, right?”

When he says nothing more, Mia groans, frustration mounting. “You know, I’ve spent my entire life blaming everyone else for taking you away from me, when maybe I should have just been blaming you. You are not the hero Mom talked about, Dad, if you could just walk away from this. Heroes stay. Heroes fight.”

Her words echo in the wide space, leaving a hollow feeling behind as they dissipate into the cold walls. Her dad remains silent and stiff for a long time, unreadable as always, until his lips twitch and that gleam of stupid pride comes back into his eyes. “You are so much like your mom.”

Mia tilts her head. “Yeah, well, apparently, I’m also a lot like you. Though I don’t know in what way.”

“I do.” He lays his hands on her shoulders, pressing in, like he’s trying to pour all of his strength into her. “You’re strong. And stubborn. And reckless.”

They both chuckle.

“And also very right. I haven’t been acting like myself in...a long time. I guess I’d forgotten what it feels like to be a vigilante, to be a hero.”

“So...what now?”

“Now,” he smiles, “We stop Archer. Let’s see if you can keep up with your old man.”


End file.
